


The Marksman

by WithTheKeyIsKing



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Clint Barton, Deaf Clint Barton, Gen, Human Experimentation, Hydra Clint, Kid Clint Barton, Languages and Linguistics, Protective Avengers, Protective Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 17:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6866011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithTheKeyIsKing/pseuds/WithTheKeyIsKing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers capture a high-value target, and are surprised with what they get</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Marksman

The man she was fighting was skilled, Natasha noticed; as skilled as she was. His punches were well-aimed, meant to hurt and to kill. His kicks were strong, forcing Natasha to back away farther than she would like to, since she had already seen what he could do from long rangehis aim with a gun was even better than his hand-to-hand, if that were possible. And he was strong, as strong as Steve.

The Avengers were all doing what they could, but the man was avoiding all of their advances with practiced ease. He was dodging Steve’s shield, Thor’s lightning blasts, Tony’s repulsers, and Bobbi’s shots. Not to mention the fact that Natasha was fighting him up close and personal and he still was standing and giving as good as he got. Natasha felt like he was just messing with them, like they were dancing and he was pulling the strings. Natasha had a feeling that under his mask he was grinning.

Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha saw Bobbi crouching behind an over-turned car, loading a Hulk tranquilizer (they’d tried a regular one on him earlier; it hadn’t worked) into a gun. Natasha changed her position, moving to the side in a way that made it look like she was just dodging one of his blows, but she really was turning him so that Bobbi could take the shot without the man seeing her in the corner of his eye.

Mockingbird pulled the trigger, and the masked man dropped.

Steve cautiously approached the man’s limp form and then picked him up, putting extra-strength handcuffs on him in the process. He carried the man to the quinjet and put him down, locking him in position so that he wouldn’t move around during the flight. Natasha kept watch over him to make sure that nothing went wrong, that he wasn’t just pretending to be unconscious.

When they arrived at the tower, Steve carried the masked man to the room they had set up for things like this. It had two doorsone right after the otherand to open one the other had to be sealed. The walls were lined with a power-suppresserfor mutants and Inhumanswhich might help fight against the man’s super-strength if that's where it came from. One of the walls was one-way, looking like a regular wall from inside and like glass from the outside, and all of the furniture in the room (a chair, a toilet, and a bed) were made of modified materials so that they couldn’t be used to escape. Plus, JARVIS was monitoring the whole thing.

Natasha stood on the other side of the one-way wall, arms folded across her chest, watching the unconscious form of the man they’d brought in. They had taken him out of his outfit, a black thing that greatly resembled what the Winter Soldier had worn, and now he was in a pair of faded green scrubs that the medical ward had provided. Now that his face was uncovered, Natasha could see that he wasn’t a man at all, but a boy, no older than seventeen years old.

The boy had dirty-blonde hair. His arms were well-defined, but not overly so, and his legs were the same. Scars were scattered across his body, what looked like whip marks on his back, and multiple gunshot scars placed in random place. Knife wounds, burn scars, whippings, gunshots…so many scars over someone so young. It would be more disturbing if Natasha weren’t all too familiar with being hurt at a young age.

About an hour (fifty-seven minutes, to be precise) after they had tranquilized him, the boy began to stir. It was only small things, like the twitch of his fingers and the slightest movement of his eyes under his eyelids. Then he stilled again, and his breathing never even changed. Natasha only knew he was awake because she was looking for those small movements; in someone who was clearly incredibly well trained, there would be no big wake up.

Natasha tapped out a pattern on the wall and the wall became see-through from in the room as well, so that anyone in the room could see where Natasha was. “I know you’re awake,” she said calmly, “there is no need to pretend; it's just us.”

After a few more moments, the boy sat up, his movements fluid. Heliterallyspent a second examining the room he was in, and then turned his attention to Natasha. His face was carefully blank, though his eyes held a hint of curiosity. Natasha had no doubt that she could only see that because he was letting her.

“My name is-"

“Agent Natasha Romanov, of SHIELD, formally Natalia Alianovna Romanova, of Red Room. Designation: The Black Widow. Member of the Avengers. Yes, I know who you are, Natalia.”

Natasha was shocked; not because he knew who she was, no that was easy for someone like him to know. No, she was surprised at his voice. He spoke English, but his voice was fluid; he switched between accents like he was moving between chords of a guitar. Each syllable brought about a new accent; Russian, German, French, American, Scottish, Wakandan…on and on it went. It was quite impressive; Natasha felt respect for this boy's skill.

"Then you have me at a disadvantage," Natasha replied, "what is your name?"

The boy was silent, simply staring at her for a little while. Then, his mouth twisted into a parody of a smile, and his eyes were dark and... _sad?_ "I'm der Schutze, стрелок, le tireur. The Marksman, for those listening who don't understand anything but English." He smirked at Natasha. "Whatyou didn't actually think I believed you when you said that it was just us, did you?"

Natasha ignored his comment. "Do you have a real name, Marksman? Or are you just another brainwashed assassin? Another Winter Soldier?"

Once again, the boy just stared at her for a few moments before speaking. When he spoke, his words were slow and clearly chosen carefully. "The Winter Soldier was only loyal to Hydra because they wiped his mind over and over again, but he was a person underneathCaptain Rogers proved that. I am...I am Hydra's weapon, Hydra's son; created for the sole purpose of taking down Hydra's enemies."

"'Created'?" Natasha asked. "Interesting choice of words, Marksman."

The boy's eyes narrowed, but before he could reply, Steve, Bruce, and Tony all entered the room, coming to stand by Natasha. They all looked exceptionally worried and very confused, and Natasha didn't understand why until Bruce handed her the papers in his hand. On the first sheet was a run down of biological facts about Marksman (blood type, DNA structure; they'd taken samples while he was asleep). Certain parts of his DNA structure were highlightedfive parts, to be exactand when Natasha turned the page, she saw why.

The second sheet had a copy of Steve's DNA, and one of the highlighted parts from Marksman's matched Steve's completely. The next page showed a DNA match to James Barnes, the Winter Soldier. The next page showed a DNA match to Howard Stark. Next page was a DNA match to Charles Xavier. And the last page showed a DNA match to Yelena Belova, a known Red Room agent. Somehow, this boywho couldn't have been more than seventeen years oldwas the biological child of two super soldiers, a genius (Tony's father), a telepathic mutant, and the woman who had lost the title of the Black Widow to Natasha many years ago.

"How...how is this possible?" Natasha murmured after she tapped another pattern on the wall, making it so that the boy couldn't hear them, only see them. "Last time I checked, it was impossible for four men to all have the same child, even if there was a woman thrown in. He said he was createddo you think he's a genetic experiment?"

Bruce sighed heavily. "The signs point to him being about fourteen years old, so obviously he couldn't actually be Steve or Howard Stark's son. Plus, I doubt that Charles Xavier was being... _active_ with a Red Room agent. The most likely theory I have is that DNA samples from the four men listed were mixed together and, well, inserted into Yelena Belova. Then fertilization happened, and out comes a genetic experiment of a child."

"Do you think he knows?" Steve asked softly, staring at the young boy on the other side of the wall. "I mean, I might not have entered this of my free will, but for all intents and purposes I'm his fatherwell, one of them. Do you think he was told how he was created? Does it even matter to him?" Steve sighed, and the room was silent, all watching the boy, who was sitting on the bed with crossed legs and his eyes closed. "He's just a child, only fourteen years old, guys. Hydra is such a monster."

Tony snorted. "He's your  _'son,'_ he's my  _'brother;'_ this day is incredibly weird. And you're right, he's a fucking kid! A fucking kid not only held his own against all of us  _at the same time_ but he's also a fucking experiment mixed together in some crazy lady's belly, basically forcing four menone currently acting as a brainwashed assassin on the looseinto having a kid and a brother. Yay us."

"I think you should shut up with the experiment talk," Natasha commented quietly, watching the boy intently. Tony turned to protest, but closed his mouth at Natasha's look. "He has Steve and Barnes' blood running through his veins, which means Super Soldier Serum. Adding that with the fact that he looks incredibly pissed off-" she left out that he looked hurt, "-I'm going to assume that he can hear everything we're saying."

Steve's eyes widened and he whipped his head around to look at the boy behind the wall, who was just now opening his eyes. To everyone but Natasha, the fourteen-year-old simply looked calm, but they all trusted her remarkable abilities to tell what the boy's micro-(incredibly, _incredibly_ micro)-expressions were saying. And they were saying that the boy was hurt, surprised, and _angry._

"You might as well turn the sound back on," the boy commented offhandedly. "I can hear you anyway, and it might make you feel better if I wasn't using my freaky experiment powers to listen to you go on and on."

Surprising everyone in the room, Steve turned on his heals and left. A few minutes later, the first door leading into the boy's "cell" clanged open, then slammed shut behind Steve and sealed. Steve then opened the second door and walked in, carrying a chair, cushy blanket, and two dinner trays in his arms. The Marksman had stood when the first door had opened, and now he was watching Steve warily.

Steve didn't seemed to mind, simple sitting the second chair a few feet away from the bed, tossing the blanket onto the bed, and placing one of the dinner trays onto the other chair. He then sat in the one he had brought in and began to eat from his own tray. The boy remained standing, staring at Steve in confusion. Steve glanced up at him and gave a small smile, nodding towards the second dinner tray, and then went back to eating his own.

After ten minutes, the boy still hadn't moved, and Steve finished the food on his tray. He put the tray on the floor and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and relaxing. The boy's expression went from wary and confused to incredulous and suspicious, and he continued to watch Steve for a few more minutes. After a bit, Marksman walked slowly over to the tray and picked it up cautiously, never taking his eyes off of Steve, and then carried it over to the bed. He once more curled his legs underneath him, sniffed at the food distrustfully, and then began to eat.

When he finished his food, he pushed the tray away and turned his full attention back to Steve. Then, Steve began to speak. He told stories, about the team, about Howard and Bucky and Tony, about Charles Xavier. He told funny stories from his childhood, and talked about how  _he_ was an experiment, how he wouldn't be Captain America now if someone hadn't messed with his body. He said that being an experiment didn't mean being a freak, that sometimes experiments made the best things. Then he smiled, said goodnight, and left.

The boy didn't sleep that night, but he was far more relaxed after Steve's visit than he had been the whole time they'd had him. When Tony asked Steve why he'd done that, the blonde man simply shrugged, smiled, and said, "He was ripped from the only life he's ever known and thrown into enemy territory. He's fourteen, Tony; he's scared and feels alone. He needs a friend. I'm going to show him that he has one. You should, too."

* * *

Stephen didn't know what to think. He'd been behind enemy lines for three weeks now, and it was nothing like Yelena and Sinthea said it would be (Niko never offered an opinion on it). They said that the Avengers would do everything in their power to sway him to their side, would hurt him if he ever stepped out of line.

It was confusing, being treated so nicely. Sure, back at base Yelena and Sinthea had been kinder to him then most people, along with Niko when he was there (and the Soldat, but the Soldat was gone now). But it was...different. Yelena was only not-mean (and yes, there's a big difference between _nice_  and _not-mean)_  to him because of the blood in his veins, Sinthea was only nice to him because of his skills, and Niko didn't really care either way (neither did the Soldat, but the Soldat was _gone)._

Now, Stephen was in a place where everyday one of the Avengers would come into his 'room' and join him. They'd bring him his meals and sit with him while they both ate. Sometimes they were silent, sometimes they told stories. Sometimes they were only there for a few minutes, sometimes a few hours. Stephen found himself relaxing around these people (against his will, mind you) and enjoying their company. They were  _good_ to him.

Stephen especially loved spending time with Agent Romanov and Captain Rogers. Agent Romanov was usually silent when she came, bringing a few books for Stephen to read (he was a fast reader, so she brought books in bulk) and one for herself. She always planted herself in one of the two chairs and began to read, but Stephen was trained enough to know that only half her attention was on the pages in front of her, the other half on Stephen, himself.

When Captain Rogers came, he would bring a board game or a deck of cards and they'd play, the Captain teaching Stephen since Stephen had never actually played any games before. Or, the Captain would tell stories; they varied, some about the crazy missions he had gone on back during World War I, and then others he had gone on in the present. Captain Rogers seemed to especially like telling Stephen about The Soldat (Bucky was his name, apparently) and Tony Stark, both of whom were biologically related to him, like the Captain himself.

Stephen wanted nothing more then to share pieces of himself back with this man, the first man to ever show him true kindness. It was about four weeks into his stay at Avengers Tower when Stephen decided to speak up. Captain Rogers was leaving after spending two hours with Stephen, and just as the Captain opened the first door, words came spilling out of Stephen's mouth.

"My name is Stephen Clinton Belova, Designation: The Marksman. I am fourteen years old. I am well-trained in ever form of fighting and weaponry, but my all-time favorite is the bow and arrow; my second favorite is a katana. I'm a mutant; I have the ability to read minds and move things with my mindI'd show you, but something about this room is keeping me from doing anything with my powers.

"Before I came here, I knew that I was created as an experiment, using DNA from a genius, a powerful mutant, and a couple super soldiers, but I didn't know who any of them were except for The Soldier and Yelena Belova. Coming here, into enemy territory, is the first time anyone has ever shown me actual kindness, andquite against my willI have found myself actually caring about what happens to you all. You are basically my father, at least biologically, and Mr. Stark is my brotheragain, biologicallyand Yelena was never a mother to me, and god dammit I just want this family. But I know you don't want me; you're the good guys, I'm not."

The room was silent except for Stephen's heavy breathing. Steve was stunned. For four weeks he had been doing his best to help the young boy in front of him in any way he could, trying his hardest not to feel offended when the boy drew away, feeling incredibly overjoyed when the boy smiled at him for the first time (it was hesitant, but open and warm, and Steve had returned it with a broad smile of his own). And now, the blonde-haired boy had just spewed out a lot of personal information about himself, looking like he'd wanted to do that for a while. And he thought he wasn't wanted...

Steve moved away from the door, leaving it open because he knew there was no threat from the boyStephen, his name was _Stephen_. "Stephen," Steve said softly. "That's a really nice name."

Stephen smiled like that was the first real compliment he'd ever received. "Danke; Soldat chose it, as well as my middle name." Steve's eyebrows shot up, but Stephen wasn't looking. "And I get _'Belova'_ from Yelena, obviously, as she was my birth mother and they didn't want to give me the Soldier's forgotten oneI didn't even think he really had one; I thought that maybe he had been raised from birth as the Soldier, as I was raised as the Marksman."

"You said..." Steve's throat caught on the words, his voice thick, "you said that Bucky chose _'Stephen'_ and _'Clinton'_? How is that possible? I thought that he was like a drone at all times?"

Stephen's expression softened. "The Soldatyour Buckyhad...call them _lucid moments._ He wouldn't be completely there, but in those times he would care about people, call out for a _'Steve,'_ and try to escape. I was told that he was lucid on the day of my birth, and that he demanded to hold me before they wiped him again. He wanted to name me Steven, but they didn't want such an American name for their weapon. So, he settled for the Russian version and then as a sort of _'fuck you'_ he chose the middle name of Clinton, a purely American name."

Steve grinned, and he knew that his eyes were watering, then laughed a shaky laugh. "And they let that happen?"

Stephen grinned back. "They liked the name 'Stephen' so they kept it, and decided to humor the Soldat by allowing him to name me Clinton. Apparently, the Soldier even made the argument that they could use that name as a cover if I ever went on undercover missions in the United States, and that I'd respond better to it since it was actually my name." He laughed. "Pierce never _could_ keep his mouth shut; he loved telling me these stories."

The two stood in silence for a few minutes; Steve, happy to know that Bucky had always thought of him when lucid; Stephen, content to enjoy the moment before the other shoe dropped.

"Earlier you said that you thought you aren't wanted here," Steve said quietly. Stephen looked away. "When you first came here, you impressed every single one of us with your abilities; you gained Natasha's respect, which isn't an easy thing to do. Then, we found out that you were my son and Tony's brother, and Tony said some cruel things because he uses humor to avoid how he's feeling. But instantly, Stephen, I began caring about you _instantly._ Now that I've gotten to know younow that _everyone_ haswe all care about you a whole lot."

"So..." Stephen's voice was hesitant. "So you do want me here? You _actually_ want me here, for me? Not for my skills and abilities?"

Steve smiled and nodded eagerly. "Yes, so come on, I think it's time I showed you the tower."

Steve led Stephen out of the room he'd spent the past four weeks of his life in (he was wide-eyed the whole time, and trying to hide it) and around the tower. He showed him the gym and connecting range, the quinjet pad, the pool, Steve's own floor, and then led him up to the communal floor where the Avengers usually gathered for movies or meals or other such things.

When they stepped off of the elevator, Stephen seemed a little bit unsure of himself, now faced with seeing Natasha, Bobbi, and Bruce outside of the tiny room that had been a cell and a home for him.

Natasha's lips quirked into a small smile when she saw Steve and Stephen walk in, Steve's hand on the boy's shoulder. Bruce smiled as well, having come to like the boy and their intellectual conversations. Bobbi looked a little reserved, but was the first to stand and make her way over to Stephen. Stephen swayed back a little, as if getting ready to defend himself, but ended up smiling back at Bobbi when she did.

"Glad you finally decided to join us, Stephen," when he raised his eyebrows at her use of his name (when he'd only just told Steve), the blonde woman pointed at the ceiling. "JARVIS let us know that you were on your way up. We're just about to watch a movie, actually. Would you two like to join us?"

Steve looked down at Stephen, and the younger boy smiled. "Yea, I think I'd like that."


End file.
